The Greek's Pregnant Bride

‘I didn’t mean to imply that you were spoilt. I appreciate the Mondelli name has been a mixed blessing for you.’

‘And the Markos name?’ she said, glad to be able to turn the conversation onto him. ‘Has that been a mixed blessing for you?’

He raised a shoulder. ‘The Markos name is nothing special. It doesn’t stand for anything.’

‘Yes, it does. It stands for hard work, determination and guts.’

‘Guts?’

‘Rocco told me you got into Columbia on a scholarship. That alone tells me how hard you’ve had to work to get where you are.’

‘We all have our crosses to bear, whatever background we’re born into,’ he said quietly. He tapped on the dividing window. Amidst a hail of tooting horns, the car came to a stop. ‘We will walk from here.’

* * *

them taken. Inside, a man played an accordion, the music only just audible above the raucous noise

apron stretched around possibly the largest pot belly she’d ever seen ambled over to them, his arms outstretched. In

he said, before adding, ‘Mikolaj doesn’t speak any English or Italian, agapi

was wrenched from Christian’s hold and yanked into Mikolaj’s embrace, which finished with an affectionate ruffle of her hair, much as

her until he was certain she was sitting comfortably—although how comfortable anyone could be when crammed like a sardine was debatable. He plonked a laminated menu in front of her then ruffled her hair again for good measure

She waited for him to move them but

craned her neck around, trying to ignore the heat brushing up her

eyebrows. ‘You

how I imagined a Greek restaurant to be. You can

it being here, in his home city, that had caused its

place apart from the food?’ he said. ‘It’s tourist-proof—all the people in here are

me you

is all

this busy?’ It was a Monday evening, hardly the